


Reflection

by iamfitzwilliamdarcy



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamfitzwilliamdarcy/pseuds/iamfitzwilliamdarcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watching his son sing, Jack Bolton reflects on the moments that led up to this. He couldn’t be prouder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection

**Author's Note:**

> written for tumblr user etverbumcarofactumest because she was sad; special shout out also to tumblr user idonthavehands whose talks with me about hsm contributed a lot to this :)

It had been a long time since Jack Bolton had stepped foot in the theater. Well, seriously, at least and barring all the times he’d had to drag his son and other various team members out of detention because those didn’t really count. He’d always felt out of place in the theater, too big, too bulky, too much of a jock. 

But as he stood there now, leaning against the door, trying to be inconspicuous, watching his son sing, he remembered the last time he’d come. It’d been to see his wife Jennifer their junior year of high school in her last performance. She was a star then, still was now, talented in everything she did. It had been a dumb show, Jack remembered, a student written one, but it’d let her shine. She was pregnant then, though, one but she and Jack knew. She’d told Darbus after the show; Darbus, still fresh and new to the school, had never forgiven him for stealing her star away. 

Things had changed after that. Jack had still played basketball his senior year, had worked hard to get a scholarship to University of Albuquerque. He wouldn’t have been able to go otherwise. Jennifer had insisted he go too.

“I’m finishing high school,” she’d said. “And then I’ll get a job. But you need to go to college. We won’t be secure financially otherwise.” (It was funny now, because he’d ended up at the public school and she had the job that brought home the bacon). 

He’d always thought it should be the other way around, but he hadn’t been quite ready to give up basketball yet. Maybe she knew that. 

“What about your theater?” he’d asked one day, standing in his front yard.

Jennifer had shrugged. “It’s just a hobby. I always knew I’d have to do something else with my life.” She smiled then, and took his hand. “And if it’s to spend it with you, that may not be so bad.”

“Far worse for you than me,” he’d said. He knew her parents didn’t approve, never had. Sometimes, he thought they were right. She’d just laughed, though, and kissed him. He’d pulled her closer, against him, her lips soft against his. Her bump was still small, but he knew the baby was there, growing. It made his heart stutter, the way it did sometimes when he thought about how damn lucky he was to have her, to think that they had made another person. 

He pulled his face back, just slightly, and said, “Let’s get married.”

“What?” she had laughed.

“I’m serious,” he’d said. “We’re a family already. We should make it official.”

“Jack Bolton, you’d better work on your proposal,” she had said, letting go of him to bat at his shoulder. “What kind of example are you setting for your son?”

“Son?” he’d repeated, eyes widening. Then it was his turn to laugh. He’d kissed her again, twirled her around the yard. “What are we going to call him?”

They were married before they graduated, just a couple weeks into February. Troy came along in March, and Jack had cried more than Jennifer. It’d been a rough couple of years after that, making everything work, but Jack loved that baby more than anything. He’d spent every moment with Troy that he could, taking him to basketball games and practices, even to class (it was at school, in his third year when Troy was three, that he’d met James Danforth, one of his business professors; his son was the same age as Troy, and they’d hit it off real well) and work at the junkyard when he could manage it. 

They’d always thought Troy had taken after him, what with the basketball and all. “Jack’s mini-me!” Jennifer had always joked when Troy had been younger and prone to following Jack everywhere. 

Now, though, watching him up on that stage, Jack thought there was far more of Jennifer in Troy than he’d ever really realized. He lit up on that stage, talented and  _happy_. Troy hadn’t been happy lately, Jack knew. It’d been hard watching him, and he hadn’t been able to reach him, to get through to him.

“Maybe try with something other than basketball?” Jennifer, wrapped up in his arms, had suggested once, when Jack confessed he was scared of losing Troy. But Jack hadn’t known how to do that; he’d tried, before the game, but he wasn’t sure if it’d helped. Maybe it had. 

He pulled out his phone now, snapped a picture (it was taboo, but Darbus wasn’t paying attention to him), and sent it to Jennifer. “Did u no about this?”

“Is that what I think it is?” she texted back, followed by a “U shud hear him in the shower.” 

He just sent back a smiley face and a message saying they’d tell her all about it later. He turned back to the stage, almost spellbound, the way he’d been once before in this room, and felt tears prickle at his eyes. Get it together, Bolton, he told himself, but he didn’t listen. He just watched his son, feeling as though he’d burst with pride. 

When Troy and Gabriella left the stage, the magic seemed to fade away. It was time to get back to the game, get back to life. They won, of course; he hadn’t doubted them. They were the wildcats, after all. After the game, though, he pulled Troy aside.  

“I’m proud of you, son,” he said, “and not just about the championship either. I saw you sing today, and I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked this semester, to do what you want to do and do right by your team and your friends. You’re a good kid, Troy.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Troy said, and he was smiling the way that would always make Jack think of him as a kid. His kid.

“Mom called,” Jack added. “She got back from her business trip early. How about we get some dinner to celebrate. Just a dinner,” he said quickly, seeing Troy stat to protest. “You’ll have time to go to your party later. Besides, I think you and your Mom should chat some. She’ll have some advice for you about this musical thing.”

“Mom in musicals?” Troy repeated, raising an eyebrow, skeptical.

Jack laughed and threw an arm around Troy’s shoulders, pulling him close as they walked out of the gym together. “You’d be surprised,” he said.


End file.
